The Contract Bride's Dilemma

Chapter 5: The First Clash

Elena stepped into Jason's penthouse, her heels clicking against the polished marble floor. The sheer size and opulence of the space took her breath away—floor-to-ceiling windows framed the glittering city skyline, sleek black furniture exuded wealth, and yet… it felt lifeless. Cold.

Like the man who owned it.

Her suitcase sat by the entrance, a silent reminder of the prison she had just walked into.

Jason shut the door behind them and shrugged off his suit jacket, tossing it carelessly over the back of a chair. "Welcome home, Mrs. Sinclair."

Elena turned, arms crossed. "Don't call me that."

Jason smirked, his gaze unapologetically amused. "You are my wife, aren't you?"

"In name only."

His expression didn't change, but something flickered in his eyes—something unreadable. He stepped closer, slow, deliberate. Predatory.

"For the world, we're happily married. You'd do well to remember that."

Elena squared her shoulders. "And what happens behind closed doors, Jason? Do I get my own wing of the penthouse so we can pretend we don't exist to each other?"

Jason let out a low chuckle, slipping his hands into his pockets. "You'll find I'm not so easy to ignore."

Her stomach twisted. This is why she had insisted on the no-intimacy clause. Jason Sinclair was dangerous—not in the way he wielded power, but in the way he could get under her skin.

She turned away, seeking distance. "Where's my room?"

Jason leaned lazily against the kitchen counter. "Our room is at the end of the hall."

She froze. "Excuse me?"

"Our room." His voice was maddeningly calm. "We're married, Elena. Separate rooms would look suspicious."

Her pulse spiked, but she kept her voice steady. "You agreed to the no-intimacy clause."

His smirk didn't waver. "And I intend to honor it. But this marriage has to be believable. That means sharing a bedroom."

Elena clenched her fists. "Then I'll sleep on the couch."

Jason pushed off the counter, closing the distance between them. "Suit yourself. Just don't complain when the house staff starts whispering about how the new Mrs. Sinclair already can't stand her husband."

Her jaw tightened. He was twisting the situation in his favor, as always. But what choice did she have? If she refused, it would raise suspicions.

Checkmate.

"Fine," she bit out. "But let's get one thing straight—I may be staying in your room, but I don't answer to you."

Jason tilted his head, amused. "We'll see."

Their gazes clashed, tension thrumming between them. Elena forced herself to look away first, grabbing her suitcase. If she stood there any longer, she might actually start believing the challenge in his eyes was something other than war.

The Penthouse Rules

Later that evening, Elena sat at the edge of their bed—correction, the bed she was forced to share. Jason had gone about his business as if nothing had happened, leaving her to stew in frustration.

The door swung open. Jason stepped inside, sleeves rolled up, looking infuriatingly at ease. "We need ground rules."

Elena snorted. "Oh, this should be good."

Jason arched a brow. "First, when we're in public, you act like a devoted wife. Smiling, hand-holding, the whole fairy tale."

She rolled her eyes. "I know how to play a role, Jason."

"Do you?" he murmured, stepping closer. "Because back at the wedding, you hesitated. I had to wonder if you were planning to bolt."

Elena's breath hitched, but she kept her expression unreadable. "And yet, here I am."

Jason studied her for a moment before continuing. "Second, you will attend social events with me. No complaints."

Elena crossed her arms. "And if I refuse?"

Jason's lips curved. "You won't."

She exhaled sharply. "You really think you can dictate every part of my life?"

Jason leaned in slightly, voice low. "For the next year, you are my wife. You wanted this deal—now live with it."

Elena's nails dug into her palms. "You forgot a rule, Jason."

His gaze darkened. "Enlighten me."

She met his stare head-on. "Stay. Out. Of. My. Way."

Jason chuckled, low and dark. "That, my dear wife, is the one rule I can't promise to follow."

The First Night

The clock read 2:07 AM when Elena finally gave up on sleep.

Jason lay on the other side of the massive bed, his breathing deep, even. Unbothered. Meanwhile, Elena's thoughts wouldn't stop racing.

She turned slightly, studying him in the dim glow of city lights. Even in sleep, he looked controlled. Like a man who never let his guard down.

As if sensing her gaze, Jason stirred, voice rough with sleep. "If you keep staring at me, Elena, I might start thinking you like what you see."

Elena jerked back, pulse spiking. "In your dreams, Sinclair."

He chuckled, eyes still closed. "Get some sleep, wife. You'll need it."

Elena glared at the ceiling. This was going to be a long year.